


October 2nd: Mindless

by TheHuggamugCafe



Series: Writober 2019 [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/M, Hunter!Reader, I already geek about these two dorks anyway, I have no shame, Inspired by a Supernatural video binge, Inspired by a roleplay, Jealousy, Live-in boyfriend, Love Bites, Mild Fluff, Oh look another pairing for me to go nuts over, Vampire!Akira, fangs, inspired by a dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-22 10:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20872391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHuggamugCafe/pseuds/TheHuggamugCafe
Summary: You return home from a successful hunt: bloody, bruised, and your body is sore.The proof that you’re alive is the light throbbing from asouveniryour target left you: a bite.However…Your boyfriend is not pleased.





	October 2nd: Mindless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DragonsInkwell (Lafrenze)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafrenze/gifts).

> I love it when a friend not only encourages my thoughts as I write, but fans the flames of inspiration.
> 
> Here’s a special shout-out to my dear and wonderful friend, DragonsInkWell (Lafrenze). Thank you very much, fellow writer!
> 
> Fun fact: I am _terrible_ with summaries.

Your gaze is pointed up at the dark ceiling, watching the way the cold silver glare of the moon breaks the shadows, casting a dim luminescence across the blackened expanse of the room that is your shaded sanctuary.

The eerie silence is broken only by the noises you hear from outside: the muffled howl of the wind whistling through the dark, empty streets; the patter of the rain drumming on the window and playing soft musical notes on the roof, surprising you in how nature’s melody calms you; the distant roar of a passing vehicle, eventually tapering off into the undisturbed quiet that fills your room.

The feeling of the mattress sinking is followed by the quiet rustle of the covers veiling the bed you share with your live-in boyfriend, Akira Kurusu. You feel fingers carding through your hair. The touch is soothing in an odd manner, albeit an appreciative way. You blink and, soon, find yourself staring into a face you know all too well.

“Akira,” you say, whispering your partner’s name.

You don’t ask him what he’s doing. You figure he’ll tell you his intentions sooner or later, assuming he’s not in the mood to tease you. You will back a groan but allow your eyes to roll heavenward.

You hope he isn’t in a playful mindset. You don’t have the patience or energy to put up with _that _side of Akira tonight.

However, you stiffen slightly as you feel his nose pressing to your neck; frizzy hair tickles your jaw, your face as you unconsciously take in a breath. It, the inhale, feels strangely like you’re breathing ice into your body, and you can’t will back the shiver that crawls up and down your spine.

“…Akira?”

Again, you whisper his name, flicking an askance at him. He doesn’t reply and slowly, oh so slowly, you turn your face to look at him properly—however, the moment the thought hits you, a hand holds your jaw in the crook, resting gently on the curve of its fingers.

A soft hiss breaks the tense silence and you feel cold sweat beginning to form on your crown as you stare, feeling as bewildered as you are _slightly _worried.

You hear him take in a breath, slow and deep, before the dark-haired man breathes a second snarl, sounding more vexed now.

“I smell _him_ on you.”

You blink again, more slowly this time. A frown is quick to possess your lips, pinched to a thin line.

You know who he’s talking about. It’s hard to forget the vampire who wound up on your list of fanged troublemakers. It’s _also_ hard to forget the vampire—not the one whose nose is currently pressed to your neck, the corner of his mouth curling in distaste, but another—who gave you a reminder of having your neck pierced and your blood drunk.

The vampire you faced down mere hours ago is the reason why you returned home to your live-in boyfriend, sweating, bruised and bloody, and bearing one last reminder of your life-or-death meeting with him: a bite wound on your throat; two holes leaking red that are prominent to anyone looking for them.

Quietly, you feel a thin trace of your sadism rearing its ugly head. You hope that the pain you felt was returned to him two-fold, no, ten-fold. You hope the numerous holes you left in his body was an agonizing reminder of why you are not someone to be toyed with, and you certainly hope that wherever vampires like him go to in the afterlife welcomed him with open arms.

_So long as he’s suffering… No one like him deserves to be at peace…_

Your reply comes quickly, thoughtlessly.

“Obviously,” you say, lazily drawling the word. “One tends to have the scent of another on them during a struggle for the other’s life. Near-death experiences are all the rage nowadays.”

The feeling of warm air huffing on your neck lets you know he’s ignoring your dry humour. For once.

“I don’t like it.”

He is practically growling the words, not even bothering to hide his distaste as he leans away from your neck, staring you fully in the face as his irked glare meets your coolly collected stare. You swear you see green fire dancing in his eyes—flecks of red dot his irises, and you can’t help but think of stars scattered over the night sky—and, sighing, you watch as he raises a hand. Slowly, as though you are nothing but a glass figurine, his fingers trail along the bandage that covers your neck.

“Do you want me to take a shower? Again? I was fairly sure I got the stink of that rude vampire off of me.”

“No.”

You note his tone is much softer now. He ignored your snarky response too, and _now_ you’re starting to feel a bit worried. The dork that you call your live-in boyfriend _never _passes up the opportunity to tease you, to get under your skin, and push your buttons until he finally gets a rise out of you. Such a thought fails to erase the sincere feelings that trouble you. You’re still tense, yes, but your body doesn’t seize up because you fear for your safety. As much as you get on Akira’s nerves and vice-versa, and as much as you enjoy your daily—no, scratch that, _hourly—_sessions of who can best the other’s sassy mouth, the last thing you want is have to buy new furniture or having to throw away broken appliances, both rendered useless to Akira’s inhuman strength.

“…Did he hurt you more than you told me?”

You almost swear up and down that he sounds genuinely concerned now. You stare at him like you’re _seeing _him for the first time. Thankfully, it is nothing like how your first meeting went down.

_ Your eyes pointed a stare down at the man whose throat was torn out, almost quite literally so. You knew him. Everyone had a run-in with him in your town at least once. Some meetings were good, other encounters were far less benevolent. _

_You wondered if the man beneath the other man—the one who you beat at a game of pool in a crappy, run-down bar a few towns over—was innocent. You wondered what he did to earn the attention of the man drinking from the dead body._

_You wondered if he did anything at all to earn a fate like that_ _… _

_But it was who was leaning over him that truly mattered—or rather, _what _was leaning over him that received your undivided attention. In several seconds that seemed to last forever, you saw, heard, felt and did many things._

_You saw blood flowing down a chin, eyes blazing red and hungry. You saw the fangs dripping crimson as a breath that reeked of warm metal was breathed in your direction. Try as you might, you couldn’t help but draw in a hitched breath. The feeling of ice filled your lungs as you breathed in, slowly. The cold barrel of your gun was heavy in your hand and the stake you had tucked inside your coat felt as though it weighed a ton, though you wielded them as well as a chef held a pair of carving knives._

_He said one word and only one word._

“_Hunter…”_

_In due kindness, you replied, your voice as cool as ice._

“_Vampire.”_

_The click of your pistol’s hammer echoed in the chilly night, and the last thing you remember hearing was an amused chuckle from the red-eyed man._

The loud pop of your gun firing and the smell of gunpowder lingering in the autumn air is all you can successfully recall. It’s all you _want _to remember.

You’d rather forget about waking up on the ground, the early autumn air cooling your sweating face as the gritty asphalt scratched against your palms as, slowly, you pushed yourself to a sitting position.

You’d rather forget the sight of your pistol and stake lying a few feet on your left: your pistol had been broken, the barrel was bent at an unusual angle; your stake had been reduced to mere splinters and wood dust.

You’d rather forget about wincing in pain, grimacing as you raised a hand to your throat.

You’d rather forget breathing a hiss as your fingers touched the juncture between your shoulder and neck, bringing your hand to eye-level.

You’d rather forget seeing the way blood was smeared on the tips of your digits, running down to the palm of your hand.

You’d rather forget about having stumbled home, bruised and bloody, seething as you stepped into the shower to wash the sweat and dirt off of your body.

You’d rather forget how you silently stewed in anger as you tended to the bite wound on your throat, swearing retaliation on that frizzy-haired, fanged bastard for biting you _and _drinking from you as you slipped into unconsciousness.

A sharp pinch to your side pulls you from your thoughts and, reluctantly, you turn your attention to the frizzy-haired man you call your boyfriend.

“Did he hurt you more than you told me?_ Yes _or_ no_?”

Silently, you note that the displeasure is far more blatant in his voice now; you can practically _taste _the barely-there irritation lacing his words as they roll off his tongue, leaves his lips that are curled to a small, tooth-filled sneer.

“No,” you reply, honesty shining through in your expression as you add, “and even if he did, there’s nothing you can do about it. He’s dead, remember?”

“As he should be. Touching and harming the person who is _mine_. Not only that, but giving my kind a bad name.”

_Funny. I thought the same of you when we first met. _

You keep such thoughts to yourself, settling for raising a hand and carding your fingers through Akira’s black hair. You can’t help but laugh as it, his hair, is remarkably soft to the touch.

“My, my. Aren’t you being the jealous one tonight?” you say, a light note of teasing lacing your words.

He says nothing in response; the puff of air that hits your neck, ghosts over your collarbone tells of his huff.

However, the snicker that rolls off of your tongue next is cut off abruptly, and you breathe a gasp as the noise of a sudden suction fills your ears. The noise is so sudden that the silence filling the dark bedroom is broken for what seems like forever, but finally, it returns to only being disturbed by the muffled wailing of the wind, the light thunder of rain hitting the window, and the soft ticks of the clock on the end table next to the bed.

“W-What are you doing—_ah_.”

A second suck to your neck promptly shuts you up, but it is followed up with the tiniest and familiar brush of fangs ghosting over the warm, trembling skin of your throat. Vaguely, it dawns on you that Akira is adding his tongue; you feel a wet warmth trailing a path up your skin to your ear, shadowed by teeth nibbling on the lobe.

“Reminding you why…”

A pause. A kiss. The sloppy noise of a tongue and teeth merely hint of a love bite blooming to life on your skin.

“That the only one who can mark you…”

Another pause. Another kiss. A second short, dreadfully short spell of teeth and tongue; a second round of fangs brushing across your skin.

“And the only one who can touch you is _me_.”

The word _mindless _rings in your mind, hollow and empty, sans for asking yourself why you—given what you are: a hunter—let a vampire to kiss your throat, allow his tongue to wet your skin, and permit the frizzy-haired young man you call your boyfriend to nip your lobe and tease your sensitive flesh with a barely-there brush of his fangs.

“Do not forget this, Treasure. Otherwise…”

He leans away from your neck with a sharp _pop _of his lips, and you’re certain you feel one love bite lapping over another; the skin is _throbbing_, but in a good way. You can’t help but swallow as your eyes lock with Akira’s. They’re _gleaming _and _red _and _hungry_. You feel a bead of sweat trailing down your cheek as your heart beats in your breast, fast and furious.

“I will do more than remind you—I’ll be forced to show you just how much _you’re mine_.”

**Author's Note:**

> October 3rd: Bait has already been started. It should be up within a day or two, so please look forward to it!
> 
> Also, credit goes to my good friend, freebird97, for Akira’s quotes near the end. Thanks, you classy nerd!


End file.
